


It happened again

by theprincesjewel



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:11:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincesjewel/pseuds/theprincesjewel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"and I will not be bullied" whambashbangcrashbeatbeatbeat aftereffects</p>
            </blockquote>





	It happened again

**Author's Note:**

> You may blame this fic on this: http://godfangs.tumblr.com/post/52323511236

Everything had been damaged. His body, his pride, his self-esteem: Nothing had escaped unscathed. Loki couldn’t help the pained whine that escaped as he laid crushed into the hole created by his most recent failure, in the proof of his most recent display of utter inability to protect himself from a bully.

 

Was there ever a time he had managed to divert a bully or protect himself from one? As the battle raged outside, his mind provided him with a resounding “NO!”. A broken noise, not quite a sob, escaped him. No, he had never gotten the upper hand, not physically, and his words had often only caused him greater pain. The only thing he had ever gotten was sly revenge against those who had bullied him, harmed him… and in many instances, his revenge had backfired spectacularly on himself.

 

Witness the fact that he was crushed into the floor. He whimpered again as he tried to shift position, moaned softly in pain as things that should not move did anyway as he finally managed to roll onto his side. He had to stop and wait for the pain to ease – how many times had he had to do that in just the last year? – before he could finish rolling to his stomach.

 

He grit his teeth and doggedly dragged himself from the hole in the floor, hissing as each movement jarred the worst of his injuries. He had to stop several times, gasping for air, as waves of pain flooded him.

 

It was not enough that he had not been fully healed before Thanos had sent him through the Tesseract. Not enough that his magic had been mostly drained, his body abused, his mind repeatedly raped. No, there had been the additional damage dealt by the battle that had immediately ensued for reasons he still did not quite comprehend – he had not been properly aware of what was going on, more concerned with not vomiting all over the place since the journey had reinjured him and upset his stomach rather badly – and it certainly did not help that he could not remember the last time he had had enough to eat or drink.

 

Perhaps, when the… Avengers? Yes, that was what the mortal had called them. When the Avengers returned, perhaps he would get that drink. It was not as if his stomach could become much more unsettled, and perhaps Midgardian alcohol might actually settle it. Stranger things had happened.

 

He was almost used to the pain by the time he reached the stairs and began dragging himself up them. He could feel Thor approaching, could feel the reverberations of the green creature’s steps as he reached across the top stair, and pulled himself up just that little bit more so he could turn and face them. The expressions were unfriendly, and the archer wasted no time in drawing his bow.

 

His eyes sought those of Thor, and his heart sank. His once-brother seemed more likely to harm him than help. The Ironman, however… “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll have that drink now,” he requested carefully, meeting the brown eyes of the other. They narrowed slightly.

 

“One time offer, Rudolf,” the man replied. Thor stepped forward and hauled him to his feet. Loki gasped sharply, but hastily composed himself. These people were clearly unconcerned about how injured he might be. There would be no treatment he could not give himself. He closed his eyes and concentrated his magic, trying to focus a healing spell.

 

Instead, the Other invaded his mind once again, promising worse horrors than those he had already endured, telling him that Thanos was already on his way to pick up his errant toy. Loki jerked in Thor’s hold when the dastardly Chitauri ripped his way free of his mind, leaving him with fire raging in his skull, and Thor’s grip tightening so much that his bones threatened to shatter in his grip.

 

It took him awhile longer to realize that he was in chains and muzzled, but only moments to understand that his bindings were to restrain his magic. Panicked green eyes met harsh blue, and fell. There would be no appealing to Thor, and no appeal meant no magical healing. Loki closed his eyes, and stumbled numbly along as he was dragged away to the place they had decided to hold him until he could be returned to Asgard to face the All-Father’s judgment.

 

The bound mage held little hope of that judgment being remotely favorable, or based on a full accounting of events. His side, the muzzle told him, would go entirely unheard. He composed himself as well as he could, and made use of the only available seat in the cage in which he was placed. He made no attempt to meditate after the first try resulted in the instinctive attempt to heal himself – and set off the wards in the bindings. Loki remained absolutely still, unwilling to further aggravate his many injuries, or the new ones he had just received.

 

Four days he sat unmoving, unfed, unwatered, and given no offers of medical treatment or relieving himself. In truth, he would not have needed the last. He had eaten and drunk so little so rarely that he had no need of such a physical release. However dearly he wished to be allowed food or drink, to have his hurts tended, he knew that such acts of consideration would not be offered – not to one so hated as he.

 

Green eyes met blue. Thor strode forward and took hold of the shackling chain. “We return to Asgard,” the blond informed him. “Get up.”

 

Loki did, and did his best to appear as if he was unaffected by the beating he had endured. He did his best to appear strong, unharmed. He was the God of Lies, after all, and one does not need to speak in order to lie.

 

It was not until he had been abandoned in the hellish cage that he stopped pretending, and let his tears flow once more. He cried until there were no more tears, and then he began planning his revenge. Those who had bullied him… he would not forget, he would not forgive. They would pay. All of them.

 

And he had plenty of time to choose the most appropriate demise for them all.

 

He would not be bullied again.


End file.
